Devotion
by Broken Mirrors
Summary: [InuiTezuka]Yaoi. This is a side story to TTD. Tezuka is injured and in hospital. Matured characters.


Fandom: Tennis no Ohjisama

Pairing: Inui x Tezuka

Rating:

Notes: This is a side story to TTD. Takes place after Tezuka's last match at Roland Garros, Grand Slam tournament, five years after his final year in Junior High.

I find it hard to believe that Inui would think as symbolically as he is doing in this fic. But then again, mathematics is kind of ultimate symbolism, and he tends to think in figures, so…

My French is VERY poor, so don't throw anything too big at me when there's errors in the few sentence I've crafted in French.

English is my second language and I don't make promises that this fic is overall errorless.

Thank you Hagane-sama, for everything you've done!

Hope you enjoy reading!

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**Devotion **

Lately, I'm in to circuitry  
What it means to be  
Made of you but not enough for you  
And I wonder if  
You can bilocate is that  
What I taste  
Your supernova juice  
You know it's true I'm part of you

Bliss – Tori Amos

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**Chapter 1.**

Broken dreams

Inui flipped trough his dictionary, gazing every now and then in his notebook and began then with weighting hesitation in his voice: "E-excusez-moi de vous… déranger, eh… Monsieur, mais pourriez-vous, hmm, raconter… hmmm…" The patiently waiting man, clothed in a white nurse's gown, offered him a serene look, smiling compassionately. "Mon ami Tezuka Kunimitsu, son chamber, s'il vous plait?" He was sure it wasn't a correct sentence but the nurse seemed to understand, so it really didn't matter anyhow.

He wandered absentmindedly behind the helpful nurse who was so kind to show him where Tezuka had been put. When they had arrived in the hospital yesterday, he had been placed in temporary room but Inui wasn't really sure if he could have found his way there either. He couldn't understand any of the guide signs and there weren't names on the doors, just numbers.

Listening the nurse with only half of his concentration, he arranged the day's timetable in his head, only understanding few of the shorter man's words. France wasn't his forte. He could make out that there was a good change that Tezuka would be eating at the moment, eighty percent maybe, _if_ he understood correctly what had been said. He really had to find an interpreter today if he wanted to now what exactly was wrong with Tezuka. And it was hundred percent certain that he wanted just that.

"Merci beaucoup" He murmured before pushing open the heavy door, which pounced back right after he had went through. Arranging the books under his arm, he walked straight into the room, balancing the flower bouquet in the same hand as the books, pushing his eyeglasses higher with his index finger.

The room was small, cramped with two beds, movable tables and chairs. White curtains were drawn half way around the other bed and on the little table was a tray full of food, left untouched. It was like any other hospital room; nothing special. A rather large window opened to the little inner courtyard, and there was a gentle wind caressing the flowering apple blossoms, carrying a scent of an airy day.

Tezuka was sitting on his bed, watching out of the window, transfixed. His amber eyes expressionless, cinnamon brown hair messy and spiky, and he sat, quiet and motionless. Inui spared a moment tracing every feature on his beautiful face, almost fragile, sharp and angled. He drew the soft line of the smaller man's silhouette with his gaze, long, slender throat line, sharp chin, thin lips, small, pretty nose, the smooth line disappearing under the rumbled hair. He caressed the high cheekbones with softening eyes and locked his gaze finally on angled, glimmering eyes under the slim figure of glasses.

Never letting his eyes avert from the other man, he slipped on to one of the chairs and began to open the bouquet. When he had the single, boldly red orchid in his hand Tezuka finally looked at him. He smiled, warmly and comfortingly. He was seventy percent sure no-one else saw the soft fragility in Tezuka that was so clearly visible to him.

"Inui." Tezuka's voice was soft and edged with almost invisible desperation that he kept well hidden. But Inui saw through him, had seen a long time. He knew that the little frown furrowing the smaller man's brows wasn't the one he usually wore and that the little nervous gestures his healthy hand was making wasn't only a stress habit, he knew each and every one of them.

"Tezuka" he murmured still smiling, holding the red flower in his hand. "I'll get some water for this." He stood up and began to look for a vase. He knew if he stayed silent long enough, Tezuka would tell him of his own accord what the doctors had said about his shoulder. It was just one of those things he alone knew about the stoic tennis player.

Tezuka coughed few times and then began to speak, faintly faster than he had thought. "I'm leaving for Japan." And so straight to the point, like Tezuka had always been. "They said that the hand will be functional but only after a long rest." The smaller man lapsed into silence again and when Inui turned to look at him, he saw that Tezuka was gazing out of the window, sadness rimming his deep eyes.

After a long silence he said"I'll never play tennis again." His voice sounded so soft and silent, like a whisper, strained with hopelessness. Inui watched him as he sat in the light halo of sunrays streaming trough the window, framing his seemingly fragile feature with soft glowing. "Not in the sense of playing. It's over."

Inui had been waiting for something like this. He had had the whole evening to go through everything that had happened in the match, to meticulously ponder every movement. There had been over a sixty percent chance that Tezuka would be very badly injured. The shock had vanished when he had thought about Tezuka and wondered how he would get through this. The final hesitation vanished when he had decided what he had to do.

"Echizen was here just before you came. He'll be staying and watching the rest of the games. You could stay with him. I'm sure he'll be entering the Grand Slam next year. He'll be needing a coach. I could recommend you." Tezuka still wasn't looking at Inui, his voice trembling slightly. "There's no need for you to stay with me. I'll never play professionally again. So, your job with me is done. There is no need of you to come back in Japan with me. Echizen is here and this would be a good opportunity for you two to make plans and you could watch the games together, analyze, you know." Tezuka continued to ramble, sounding with every passing second more and more desperate and forlorn. He was falling apart fast, right in front of Inui, who followed with morbid fascination how his friend was mumbling barely recognizable words a with fervor he rarely possessed.

"Tezuka"

"No! I already spoke with Echizen. He would love to take you in if you can come up with a way to fend off his old man." Tezuka's eyes narrowed determinedly as he fought off the slight hitch in his voice. He seemed so small between white, immaculate sheets, in his light blue shirt and the bandages caging his slender form. Inui felt his chest tightening, thinking of how vulnerable Tezuka really was, and so unsure about himself in everything save tennis.

"If you could just bring my insurance papers, maybe tomorrow, I'll be fine. Or you could fax them, if don't have time to come yourself. Today will be an interesting day at courts. Sanada is playing. Who is his opponent again? It's the Swedish older guy. What's his name? Oh yes, Jonas Björkman. I remember, you told me about him because he has better results with left-handed opponents, right? He's really a doubles specialist but succeeds in singles too. It should make an interesting game. Sanada is good but Björkman has experience backing him up, and if I remember correctly, you said he has a bit of a temper. Breaks a lot of racquets"

Inui wasn't really listening to him anymore. Tezuka went on and on about Björkman and Sanada, his voice trembling and on the verge of cracking, eyes locked onto something outside, sometimes clenching tightly shut, like he was holding in a sob that threatened to surface, his fingers tangled in white creased sheets. Inui stood silently watching, holding the vase in his hand, waiting.

He saw the real Tezuka fighting inside the icy shell that had captured it, wanting to break loose. He waited patiently for the new, true Tezuka to be borne again. It would be hard and painful but still so perfect and necessary. Here, out of pure need, the true inner strength and beauty would be released. And he would be the one seeing it; the one who would witness the glass mask breaking, picking up the pieces, embracing the reborn Tezuka.

"Tezuka." The rambling man ignored him once again and he sighed inwardly, glancing at the red flower in his hands. The crimson bloom was almost the same color as his tight turtleneck. He lowered the vase carefully to the movable table, beside the untouched food tray and rubbed his hands absently against his gray tweed pants. Tezuka's hands were now tightly clenching the sheets in his fists and he kept stubbornly gazing out of the window.

Inui sighed again; this time out aloud and gently lowered himself to sit beside Tezuka on the narrow hospital bed. He slowly reached out with his hand and lifted the elegant glasses off from Tezuka's eyes. "Kunimitsu." He murmured softly, holding the surprised gaze the smaller man offered him, words slowly dying on his trembling lips. Tezuka's eyes were wide, full on unshed tears, the soft mix of amber and cinnamon in the deeps of the orbs, yielding. "Don't be afraid to fall." He cupped Tezuka's cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb across his cheekbones, wiping off the tears that were now streaming down the pale skin.

Suddenly Tezuka leaned on to him, sobbing hopelessly, hiding his face on Inui's smooth chest. Tezuka's hands grappled the red shirt hem in his tightly clenched fists, shoulders shaking, surrendering. He was submitting himself to the fear and sadness. Inui wound his arms around the trembling man and leaned his cheek on top of Tezuka's head, feeling the soft texture of his hair on his skin, brushing his lips gently against the wind-blown locks.

"I'll be there to catch you."


End file.
